Clean and Elegant

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Not That Kind of Girl

November is some kind of national novel writing month. Every
November, I feel flooded with guilt that yet again, I will not write a novel.
One year I tried. Made the word count of 1750 daily words for a week or so. The
novel was about the time I lived and worked at a house for people with
intellectual disabilities. I called it “Two Spines.” The material was rich. I
pull it out regularly but I have never been able to put it together into
anything coherent. By about eighty pages, it feels useless and impossible.
Torture, regret, self-loathing. Can novel writing month be filled with anything
else? I told my mother about novel writing month and its ensuing guilt. She
told me that sometimes she wishes that someone would cut off her arms so that
she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not practicing the piano enough. Perhaps
guilt is genetic. Or endemic. Perhaps I will write a novel while I’m in Delhi.
Or someone will cut off my arms and forever rid me of the guilt.Now I am in Delhi.

In the mornings I try and meditate. I used to be good at
meditation, but in Delhi, it is excruciating. To stay focussed, I balance a
copy of Lena Dunham’s “Not That Kind of Girl” on my head. Maybe Lena Dunham
would like that. It’s possible that I am the only person in the world who
balances “Not That Kind of Girl” on her head while meditating. We will have to
see on Periscope. All through meditation, I am dying for the Internet.

Me and Lena

“Not That Kind of Girl” is somewhat up my alley. A great
deal of nudity, sex, body parts, menstruation and masturbation. When she was very young, someone
told Lena that touching your private parts led to something that felt like a sneeze. Soon afterwards, Lena started
masturbating and discovered that in fact, the result was more like a seizure. I
liked that part. During the summer, a friend of mine asked me when I felt the most
alive in the past few years. Without missing a beat, I told him about the
surprise sex that Robbie and I had one summer afternoon. It was heavens parting squirt everywhere kind
of sex. Magic Mushrooms Sex. Beautiful Sex. A sneeze sort of orgasm. The time was
August of 2014.When I think about
that summer, sometimes I consider that this was the last time Robbie and I were
truly happy. A bit sad. You never know when the best times will be over. My Magic Mushrooms
Friend says that if you're a squirter and you don't squirt, it can build up and
cause neurosis. I met my Magic Mushrooms Friend on the online dating site Plenty
of Fish in 2009. We never made each other squirt; in fact, we never even
kissed. But he has taught me a great deal about drugs and squirting. My Magic
Mushrooms Friend is a big advocate of learning to squirt by yourself. I have
never figured this out. I find the duvet is limited in its ability to generate
a squirting sneezing sort of orgasm. If Lena Dunham were me, I imagine that by now, she would have done a better job at figuring it out. Probably she would have published all of it: the Magic Mushrooms Sex, the sneeze sorts of orgasms. So now I am like Lena Dunham. In her book, there are excerpts from online messenger
chats. I can see myself publishing such things. And/or excerpts of words I
wrote to pen pals. And why not do this right now.

In Delhi, I write to
my pen pals constantly. Nobody is as good at writing back as I am. Not even my
mother. That’s why I need at least five or six or seven pen pals. Maybe more. If you’d
like to be my pen pal, here is what you can expect.

WORDS TO MY PEN
PALS:

“When I was
squatting on a public toilet today it occurred to me that my vagina looks
different than it used to. Like the labia sticks out more and is crooked. I am
not going to google prolapsed vagina but I am wondering if my vagina has
changed since I stopped doing ashtanga. Or maybe I hump the bed too much. Or
stretch too much. Do you remember my labia sticking out a whole bunch? Okay
thanks.”

“Oh man. Not sure
what I was thinking I was going to do here. I feel overwhelmed and isolated and
useless and dirty and gross. Just tried to order food and it was a shit
show. Whatever. It's the same old me. Everywhere I go. I don't know what
was so bad about my life in Halifax or in Montreal with my stoner roommate. I miss Robbie
so much. I feel like I won't pull off anything with my life. I am too old for
this. Sad noise.”

“Tonight for dinner I ate some canned beans in tomato sauce
and couscous. Quickly going through Fern’s cupboard of non-perishable items.
She has some questionable do-it-yourself custard, skippy peanut butter and two
kinds of oatmeal. I will need to find the restaurants soon.”

“The Canadian winter seems so wonderful if it means fresh
air.”

“I really don't feel
okay. I feel like my friend’s four-year-old, so desperate for his parents to
come see him in bed but it wasn't part of the agreement so he was left to wail
on his own. Going to have a shower and try to sleep.”

“Am I actually going
to become self-reliant, self-assured? Feels like such a stretch. I am baffled
by how people figure out their lives. Like how my friend Fern has figured out such a
beautiful home in this crazy city. She just seems to have livelihood all figured
out. It's so impressive. There there, Erica. You'll figure out your life too.
Or will everything just dissolve like the colours of your tie dye hippie
skirt?”

“I finally got the
balls to go to a restaurant. It was kind of a dive but I had an okay feeling
about it. Chana masala, jeera rice. A ten year old girl who I thought was
a boy came and stood beside me and talked to me the whole time. She asked me
about Canada and said she really wanted to see snow. It was adorable. She even
gave me her mother's phone number. I hope she won't be too disappointed if I
don't text. Felt immediately better after eating, which is not always the case
in India. I find when I first come to a new place I suffer low grade starvation
as I try to figure out where I can safely feed myself... Not the best for a
serene state of mind, though easily fixed.”

“It seemed I was the
only person in hippie clothes in the city but I did some touristy things today
and I feel like maybe anything goes. Spiritual pants, jeans, tie dye, moomoos,
whatever you want is no problem. I am happy that the yellow in my tie dye skirt
matches the yellow in my splash n boots shoes. Highly trendy.”

The Hippie Skirt and the SplashnBoots shoes. SplashnBoots is an outrageously successful children's band whose members I am related to. Their theme colours are blue and yellow, just like my zero drop sneakers.

“I rigged the tarot
deck so that all the good cards faced upright and the bad ones were reversed.
But since I moved to delhi the cards don't come true anymore. The cards say
upright even when it all turns into massive chaos. I don't think they work anymore.
I might need to give them up.”

“It sounds bad but I
got into a conversation with some guy who complimented me on how good I
was at crossing the street. I am actually excellent. I just looked at the bus
driver and he stopped. Imposing Nova Scotia ethics onto Delhi traffic. (Please
don't worry) Anyways, this guy ended up coming to a café with
me and it wasn't sketchy at all. Not all Indian men want to get into your
pants. Maybe a bit, but not excessively.”

Spiritual Pants. Again.

"Kind of sick of
wearing hippie clothes. The skirts drag in the puddles. It seems Delhi is a lot
more cosmopolitan than Mysore. Women wear jeans and leggings or whatever they
want. I suppose it's better to dress more conservatively in the more touristy
areas. Or anywhere unknown. And some Indians seem to like pyjama pants. For
badminton, and powerwalking. My friend Fern has quite a fancy wardrobe. Prada
and the works. She is also about a foot shorter than me. And if I’m going
to pull of the Prada dress, I will need to do something about my leg hair.”

“My ex-boyfriend
sent me an article about the risk of loneliness and premature death, and how
lonely people sometimes make choices that don’t help their loneliness. Haven’t
heard from him much since he sent it.”

“Did your toenail
fungus cleanse end up working? My toenails are a catastrophe right now. Half of
both big ones broke off. I don’t know why all of the sudden. Too much papaya?
White carbs? Everyone’s fungus mixing together? So gross.

Have you looked into
colonics yet? Other cleanses?

Maybe I am having a
people cleanse right now. Resetting my social skills. The idea, I think, is
that if you don’t interact with people for a certain amount of time, your
habits of interaction totally change. I’ll let you know how that goes.”

“The cleaning
lady messed the Tarot cards up so that some of them were upside down. I
did some readings with the flipped around deck, but it seemed too scary and
devastating. If the cards predict a bad day in Delhi, it could be truly
horrific. I decided to rig the deck again. I think it was a good plan.”

“Though I have the Internet, being here reminds me a bit of Vipassana. Barely a soul to talk to, and
people barely see me. And when I think of people I know, I am filled with love
and longing, as though nothing could be more beautiful.

It isn't a terrible
feeling, but I miss the humans.”

"I am trying to go to sleep but I keep checking the Internet for friends. I want someone to cherish me and tuck me in with a deep love. And well, there is only me."

“I got my vag and
legs waxed on Wednesday. Also found a pair of jeans in Fern's closet that sort
of fit. I think they might be Bobbi's. One size too big. But both the
jeans and the waxed vag sort of helped my morale.”

3 comments:

Every once in awhile I read your posts. Sometimes I try to see how we are connected. I read tarot cards and wear hippy clothes sometimes. I know who SplashnBoots are, as l am also somewhat related to them being Brynn's aunt. I used to live in Halifax but now like you, live in an exotic place. I live in Labrador. I have done 3, NaNoWriMoes, one produced a messy piece of shite I'm still trying to unravel, one a novel that I do think will be published by the end of next year and the one I just did. I think it will end up working out. Oh yes, and my Bodhisattva name is actually and truly "Bodhisattva ". But I think you are maybe my reverse age. We also share a blog pal, Robyn Love. There. So hi in India and it is okay and there, there.

So wonderful to hear from you, Jan! I think maybe we are sort of related. By proxy or however that works. Congratulations on your novels! And on being a bodhisattva. Maybe I can give Nano month a go some other time. Like in February! Thank you so much for the there there. There there to you too! xo.

I come on here every once in a while to see what you are up to and was so surprised to see my aunt had commented! Weird! Anyway. Publish your blog as a book. General musings on life. It's funny and interesting and what I'm thinking in my head but don't ever say out loud. I bet it would be a runaway hit. Love you.